Illusion
by Opal Zene
Summary: The old argument,” he said softly. “But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.” “Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places...R&R? please?:P
1. Prologue

Prologue

**This is my attempt (emphasis on ATTEMPT) to follow the whole "Tom Riddle meets girl" fanfic framework. I'm trying my best to be (fairly original) and in character. So with any luck, it will stand out a little. Possibly for the shameful quality of the writing, but hey, let's be optimistic. Voldemort is a fascinating character, and I just love putting him in mundane situations and seeing how he copes. It starts with a conversation with Dumbledore that is mentioned in book 6, which I altered a little…well, a lot. Where the italic writing ends, so does the book extract.**

**Enjoy.**

"_I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed-" _

"_Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain … forgive me … woefully ignorant."_

_For the first time, Voldemort smiled, It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage._

"_The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."_

"_Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore._

"I've looked where I was supposed to." Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing. "It did not serve me well."

"Love does not come at a command, Tom."

"Love does not exist. It is an illusion." Voldemort hissed. "A mindset designed to trick the unwary… love has no power."

"Have it your way, Tom. Had you ever given love a chance-"

"I have. I did." Voldemort said, "And, as I said before, it did not serve me well."

"Did you _really_ try?" Dumbledore enquired gently. Voldemort stood up and walked slowly towards the window.

"I can tell you." He said, turning back to look at Dumbledore. His words were cold, but his old professor could see the young boy he had been looking back at him, his vulnerability reappearing for a brief second. Then, after a fleeting instant, it was gone.

"If you want to tell me Tom, I have plenty spare time." He said mildly.

"I shall." Voldemort continued, as if he had not spoken. "If only to prove to you…"

He crossed the room to the desk, slipping his deft fingers into his robes, drawing his wand. Conjuring up a bowl, he pressed his wand to his temples, bringing a grey string into the shallow dish. He replaced his wand, swirling the bowl with long fingers. He placed the dish on Dumbledore's desk, and a figure rose out of it, hazy and poorly defined.

"There she is, as best I can remember." Voldemort said, looking at the laughing figure with distaste.

"Caroline Hunter." Dumbledore said quietly. "Slytherin, bright, picked on by the rest of the class…"

"At first." Voldemort added, through gritted teeth.

"A very pretty girl, no?" Dumbledore looked speculatively at his ex-pupil.

"As far as looks go, I suppose she was tolerable." Voldemort said coolly. Dumbledore nodded, watching Tom closely. There was a long silence. Voldemort placed his wand once more to his temple, letting another strand fall into the bowl. The figure redefined itself, to show a young witch in robes too large for her, dark black wavy hair partially obscuring brown eyes. She held a small pile of books in her hands, which she tried to shrink behind.

"You remember her well, after all." Dumbledore commented.

"Sometimes I do, sometimes I do not." Voldemort gave the girl an critical look. "Sometimes, she is merely a shadow that lurks in the background of my mind, other times, I can see her in perfect detail, right down to the way the rain looked as it fell on her eyelashes. Sometimes… I think of her. Rarely." Dumbledore was silent, and waited for Voldemort to speak again. He rose, taking the bowl with him. The figure was rapidly maturing before their eyes. She pushed her hair back from her face, dropped the books, walked upright. She smiled, and stood confidently, chatting animatedly to thin air. Voldemort regarded her for a minute distastefully, then began to speak, not to Dumbledore, but to himself.

"Caroline Hunter was in my year when I began at Hogwarts…"


	2. Chapter 1 : The Butterfly Hatches

**Chapter One - The Butterfly Hatches**

She was in my year and my house, and therefore, most of my classes. She was small, petite, shy to the extreme, with her dark, wavy hair always obscuring half her face. It was very long, reaching her waist at least. I paid her no heed. She was quiet, reserved, hardly Slytherin material at all. Her wand work was first class, her charms excellent. She excelled in nothing else, being unnoticeably average. Even her teachers barely noticed her, hardly raising an eyebrow if she was missing, or being aware of her late homework. Her classmates ignored her existence, and when they did remember, they teased and hexed her. That is, if she didn't block them first, with an equally violent counter-curse.

I did not realise then this was part of the act.

Years passed before I noticed her, or talked to her. She was merely a mystery behind a curtain of hair.

She had it all planned out, however.

One day, she came to class with her black hair clipped back from her face, and for the first time, we were given an unobstructed view of her face. She was pretty, if you were interested in that sort of thing, which I was not. I had watched with amusement my schoolmates and friends fall in lust and love respectively, and as far as I could make out, it was a waste of time and energy. Ultimately, a weakness. Impartial as I was, I could not deny that Caroline was an unexpectedly appealing face.

She has long, deep black eyelashes, with pale skin and a smile that started in her eyes, spreading to her mouth. Her cheeks were tinted with pink, which matched her lips. Her eyes were brown, and on the surface, innocent, but beneath them you could see her evaluating you. It was almost unnerving. I wondered why she had waited for this moment to blossom, so to speak. It was calculated, I was sure of it.

To my utter disgust, the word of the day, and after that, the month, was "Carrie". The male population were quite taken with her, the females paying attention to her finally out of curiosity. I watched her smile tentatively, blush moderately, blink her eyes innocently. I watched her weave her web of contacts and admirers. I watched her scheme and use people quietly, working her way to where she was no longer a nobody. I watched her, and I knew: she was dangerous. A Black Widow. Spinning a web of deceit and pretty eyes, ensnaring all my friends, classmates, call them what you will. Something had to be done. What it was, I could not fathom.

I caught her in the corridor alone one day. She walked past, giving me that shy, deceptive smile. I looked coldly back. She continued walking. She didn't stand a chance as I caught her with a hex in the back. Wordlessly, she crumpled to the ground. She turned over, and lay staring at me, unblinkingly, wincing in silent pain.

I offered her my hand, always the gentleman. That was the role I chose to play. She took my hands, and I pulled her up. Neither of us said anything.

"Miss Hunter," I said.

"Master Riddle." She replied, a smile in her eyes. I was not fooled.

"That was an unfortunate stumble, Miss Hunter."

"Quite." She tucked her hair behind her ears, looking at me all the while. "There must have been … something on the floor."

"Perhaps it would pay to be more careful, in the future." My words were loaded, and she knew full well.

"Sound advice." She said quietly, barely audible. I picked up her books lying on the floor, and handed them to her. "Thank you, Tom." I frowned at the use of my name. She gave me a brief smile, and walked slowly away, as if to emphasise her careful footing. I watched her go, narrowing my eyes. She made me deeply uneasy.

I kept a close eye on her. It was easy, and I had nothing much else to occupy me. It was a quiet time of year, with no exams and no major events. Although she had apparently come out of her shell, she was still quiet and spent much time alone. At lunchtimes she would eat lightly, filling her pockets with fruit, and spend the rest of the time in the library. Although she stuck to the main library, she was browsing through the darker half of the literature. I would shadow her, from the Restricted Section. I, of course, had obtained permission. I was a model student. I saw how she watched me enviously flicking through the heavy, leather-bound volumes.

She took a shine to me after that, making a beeline past my desk to smile at me, and grant me a "Good morning, Tom." My classmates were politely incredulous. They misinterpreted her interest as being romantic. Tom Riddle was to be feared, obeyed, respected - but desired? It was simply ridiculous. To me, anyway. I would be lying if I denied a few people had showed an inclination to become- how do I say… 'involved', perhaps, with myself. My friends mocked me, but I had never shown an inclination to that area of life. I admit it, I did not understand. Usually that drew me to it, but in this case, I let it well be. I let them talk about girls and other such things which I cared little about, dismissing it as a waste of time. They were convinced that I had it in me deep down, and I think they encouraged Carrie to pursue me.

I, however, knew better. Whatever her devious plans were, I was merely an instrument. Someone who could get her what she needed. I predicted it was only a matter of time before she found some way to persuade me to help her.

Sure enough, that time came as winter began. Autumn faded away in a flurry of orange leaves, leaving the path for the crisp frost of late November. Snow fell early December, prompting snow fights and other such frivolous activities.

"Come on, Tom." Alexander, a vague acquaintance nudged me, grinning. "Snow's up. Fancy a fight…?"

I don't know why, but I agreed. We took our wands out with us, armed with gloves, hats and the like. My own gloves didn't fit me, I'd had them for quite a few years now, as old hand downs. With disgust, I discarded them. I warmed my hands in my pockets instead, renewing my hate of the orphanage in my head once more. Alexander pulled on his expensive-looking, warm gloves, misconstruing my look of jealousy and smiling at me.

"You ready?"

"As ever." I said dryly, bewitching a clump of snow, sculpting it carefully with my mind. Alex saw me beginning, and with an indignant "hey!" he retreated to a safe distance, trying fruitlessly to gather up a large snowball using his wand. It separated into several lumps. Shrugging, he directed his wand at me anyway, showering me with snow rubble.

Grinning, I waved my wand in his direction, sending my perfectly sculpted snowball curving around a tree to slip its way down his neck. He tried to pull it out, wriggling with the sensation of intense coldness on his back.

"Play fair, Tom." I heard a voice behind me say, and suddenly I was shoved face first into a pile of fluffy snow, the sound of laughter coming from behind me. I dropped my wand. I struggled to climb out of the snow, shivering despite myself. The offenders ran away, I could hear their footsteps and muffled high-fives. I suppose I was meant to retaliate.

I fumbled around for my wand, eventually losing patience and willing it to my hand. I saw a nearby pile of snow move, and I cleared some from the surface, and out shot my wand. Phoenix feather, excellent quality still. I handled it fondly. It had not let me down yet.

I ran in the direction I supposed they had gone, hardly recognising the usually familiar grounds in the flurry of snow around me. I was having no luck, and my robes were soaked through. I pointed my wand at them, and they dried a little, but the falling snow rendered that useless. Thoroughly annoyed now, I remembered why I did not have snow fights. And now, I was lost. Perfect.

"Lost, Tom?" I spun around to find Carrie smiling at me, wrapped up warm and looking perfectly at ease amongst the elements.

"Hardly." I replied, lying.

"You seem quite wet." She commented, gesturing at my robes.

"A side effect of snow, I'm afraid." I didn't want her pity.

"Tom…" she laughed, looking around for signs of anyone else. "I do believe you _are_ lost."

"Perhaps." I waved my wand, shaking excess snow from my shoulders.

"Come on." She said with amusement. "I'll show you where the main entrance is."

Grudgingly, I followed her.

She lead me through the snow, which was, by now, quite thick.

"It's deep, isn't it?" She turned to me, with a mischievous edge to her voice. I caught her tone of voice, and immediately cursed myself for being so stupid. Now that I thought about it… the snow had… a very… _feminine edge_….to it.

"Magically so." I replied, letting her know that I suspected something.

"Do you think?" She grinned at me, definitely unashamed. "Was it particularly good quality?" I chose to ignore that question, knowing full well it had been a very well executed piece of magic.

"At least one of the teachers will notice." I said, warningly. "_Especially_ if they were to receive, ahh… a hint…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She blinked innocently. We had reached the main entrance, and she pushed open the heavy, wooden doors. Inside the comparatively warm entrance hall, I let myself shiver. Just once.

Carrie stepped closer to me, reaching above my head. She produced a twig, which she held in front of my face.

"You had something in your hair." She said quietly, somewhere near my ear. She was standing too close. I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. I had no intention of joining her fan club, and it would've been inappropriate (never mind risky) to hex her. I wrapped my fingers tighter around my wand, forcing myself to stare back at her. Me, afraid of a mere girl? I think not.

"The snow was stupid." I said, for lack of other things to say.

"Why so?" She half pouted. "I had to see if I could do it."

"There would be other ways."

"Well, I don't like meddling with other peoples' food, if you catch my drift, Tom." She whispered, raising an eyebrow at me. I was taken aback. How could she have known it was I who bewitched the chicken? It had been a bit of fun, a test…

"I had to see if I could do it." I retorted, echoing her. She laughed.

"I thought it was interesting, at least."

She stepped closer, had that been even possible. I was beginning to hate her. She made me feel so ignorant, and out of my depth; something I was not accustomed to. I had no idea why she was standing so close I could feel each breath she took, and I had no idea how I was supposed to get out of this. I began to raise my hands to push her away by her shoulders, but I was afraid she would misconstrue my gesture.

"Oh, Tom." She said, teasingly. "Look how uncomfortable I'm making you." I could not think of a single thing to say to that, except to try and duck around her. She stood in front of me, denying all pathways of escape, laughing.

"Amusing as this game is," I said dryly, finding my voice at last, "I have a considerable amount of things to do this evening, if you'd excuse me-" I ducked away from her successfully, departing quickly.

Needless to say, I forfeited the match.


	3. Chapter 2: Deal Or No Deal?

-1**Chapter Two - Deal or No Deal?**

_Second chapter, chaps and chapettes. In response to one of my friends comments, that Tom should have more of a 'gang' of 'friends', I've tried to work that in a bit more. Anyway, hope you enjoy._

"A sprig of wormwood, Tom?" Slughorn nodded approvingly at my simmering potion as he surveyed the dishevelled, lip-biting mess that was my Potions class. Except for me, I remembered smugly, giving the fool of a girl next to me a disapproving glance. She was using her quill to stir the foul smelling liquid she had concocted, which was slowly catching fire. True, the potion we were making was a little more tricky than usual, but my class was falling apart spectacularly. Apart from…

"You too, Caroline?" I heard Slughorn say behind me.

"Yes, sir," Came her reply, and I caught a touch of cockiness in her tone of voice. I frowned.

Waiting until Slughorn was out of earshot, I turned around to face Carrie with an icy glare.

"You copied me." I said flatly, knowing I sounded childish. "You added some wormwood, too."

"I didn't," She said mildly, stirring her mixture, which, like mine, was the perfect shade of sky blue.

"You did." I insisted, aware of my accusations were babyish.

"Well," She began, looking sideways at me. "So what if I did?"

I was bursting with a sarcastic reply when Slughorn ambled over again, beaming complacently.

"My two star pupils!" He said enthusiastically, ruffling my hair. I hated that. I discreetly smoothed it down again with my palm.

"Two, sir?" Carrie blinked, feigning surprise.

"Why yes, two!" Slughorn gave her a broad smile. "You're coming along excellently, Miss Hunter! Better watch out Tom, eh?" He winked at me. "She'll be catching up with you soon!"

"Indeed." I muttered, just loud enough for Carrie to hear. I made an immediate pledge to be more discreet in lessons, and to not sit anywhere near Carrie.

"Tom, Tom," Slughorn cut through my thoughts.

"Yes, sir?"

"Slug Club tonight, don't you forget!" He clapped me on the back. More unnecessary contact.

"I won't, sir, I-"

"And Miss Hunter-" Slughorn interrupted again. "Perhaps you too would care to join us?" I glared openly at Carrie. She gave me a brief triumphant look.

"I would love to!" She gushed, making Slughorn beam again. I turned away, disgusted.

"And Tom-?" Slughorn continued, and I turned to face him reluctantly. "Could I have a word after the lesson, please?"

"Certainly, sir." I gave him a puzzled look. He merely smiled, returning to his desk, humming a cheery-sounding tune. Despite knowing I was a star pupil… I felt an unwelcome twinge of nerves. I quickly suppressed them. Slughorn thought the sun shone out my… well, I wasn't expecting to be told off. Before returning to work, I gave Carrie a scathing look. She pretended not to notice, diligently slicing some roots up, that ridiculous expression of innocence on her face.

I found Slughorn after the lesson, having produced the best Complacency Draft in the class, beating both Slytherins and Ravenclaws. I wondered at the pleasure I felt through something so small and simple as this. I imagined how it must feel to do something truly great…

"Tom, my lad!" Slughorn gestured to a seat besides his desk. I sat down, feeling that derisory feeling of worry creeping up my throat once more.

"Sir?" I smiled, polite as ever.

"I've been having some chats with Miss Hunter recently," Slughorn began, placing his podgy hands on his well-fed belly. "Pretty little thing, isn't she?"

"Mmm." I shrugged non-committally, not sure what he expected me to say.

"Anyway, yes, Tom, what was my point?"

"I… don't know?" I smiled in amusement.

"Ahh, yes." Slughorn clasped his hands together. "Tom, I really have to talk to you about the snow last week."

"The snow, sir?" I began, dreading what would come next.

"You shouldn't have charmed it, my lad." Slughorn said seriously. "I know, with talent like yours, the temptation must be huge, but Tom-"

"Sir, I didn't charm the snow." I said firmly, giving him my best sincere look. I could tell he did not believe me.

"Miss Hunter has told me what you said to her," Slughorn said gently. "I'm not cross with you, but as your teacher, Tom, I feel I ought to-"

"Look, sir," I said desperately. "I don't know what you've been told, but it's a lie."

"The chicken too, Tom." Slughorn added. I remained silent, hardly being able to deny that one. "I saw you today, borrowing Miss Hunter's idea of the wormwood." He continued, winking at me, "Nothing wrong with taking ideas from people, Tom, nothing wrong at all… just… "

"Sir!" I stood up. "I did not copy Caroline. She copied _me_." I felt childish again, but I was absolutely livid that she had _dared_ run prattling to Slughorn. "And furthermore, sir," I added, pleading with him. "She charmed the snow. I'm sure she did."

"Tom…" Slughorn shook his head. "Ahh well, let's leave it here for now." He

didn't believe me. I could tell. I opened my mouth to argue, but closed it again quickly. I had learned that sometimes it was fruitless to reinforce your point.

"I'll see you tonight, sir." I said in a subdued voice, gathering up my textbooks and leaving.

"How dare she?" I fumed later on that night, surrounded by my friends and comfortable chairs in the common room. "Why did she tell Slughorn I charmed the snow? She _knows _I know she did it!" My friends were listening, trying to sympathise, yet I could tell they thought I was being too harsh.

"Mmm." Robert gave me a doubtful look.

"You're useless. All of you." I said with disgust. "You're well under her spell, every last one -"

"Look, Tom," Rob began, earnestly. "It just doesn't make any sense. She was all over you just before… I don't see why she would try and get you into trouble, that's all."

"She's not as innocent as she looks." I shot back.

"I don't doubt it." Robert agreed hastily, seeing my venomous expression. "But… Tom. Think about it. She might not be trying to get you into trouble."

"Well, what do you call it then? What she's doing?" I demanded.

"Perhaps she's using you to get herself out of trouble. Rather than actively trying to get you in trouble…"

"Why me?" I said sullenly, knowing I was sounding like a whinging child.

"Who else in the class could charm snow?" Rob pointed out, making a shrugging gesture.

"No one." I said, with a slight edge of pride.

"Exactly." Rob said firmly.

That next day, I found more trouble was being distributed my way. In Charms, I was chided for setting fire to the edge of my cloak. I had not. I spent break-time mending the hole it had created, knowing I could not afford a new one. Luckily, I found a suitable spell which rendered it almost seamless. Later on, in Herbology, I knocked over some important seedlings, despite having barely touched them, and Professor Juggins asked me to return during my lunch hour to clear up the damage. By Transfiguration, my last lesson of the day, I was seething. I was muddy and smelt strongly of fertiliser, my robes still scented with the lingering scent of burning.

Unsurprisingly, something went wrong. The rat I was supposed to be turning into a mitten vomited all over my textbook. My face burned with a mixture of humiliation and anger. Professor Dumbledore gave me a curious look. He then turned to Carrie with a stern expression. I turned around to see her blushing, looking subdued. For once, Dumbledore, my least lenient professor, had been the one to actually notice what was really going on. I felt a surprising rush of gratitude to this unexpected source of help. Ever since I had first met Dumbledore, he had been suspicious of me. I wished to impress him… just once. However good my spells, however perfect my incantations, I would never quite get the respect I wanted, that the other teachers all gave so willingly.

After transfiguration, I pulled Robert to one side, and explained swiftly and in hushed tones what I wished for him to do. He was reluctant, but I insisted.

I hid in the Charms corridor; Robert concealed himself by the Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms. I waited quietly.

Carrie took the route Robert was patrolling, and, as ordered, he brought her to me. She looked mildly confused at having her arms pinned behind her, but not overly phased by the prospect. I held my wand to her throat. Still, she looked back at me unblinkingly, curiously.

"Boys, boys…" She said teasingly, trying gently to free herself from Robert's grip. He gave me an uneasy look, but I ignored him. He continued to hold her arms.

"Why me?" I snapped, wiping some mud from my face. "Why?"

"Why you?" she repeated, tilting her head to one side. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know." I said through gritted teeth, making an effort to lower my wand. "Why are you lying to get me into trouble? Why did you set my robes on fire? The rat? And, I suppose, you did the plant pots too?" I was getting worked up. "It's out of order." I finished, softly and threateningly. My wand raised again.

"Tom…" She pouted. "First you get your friend to ambush me, then you point a wand at my neck - I think, you will find… it is you who is out of order." She wriggled again, this time more earnestly. "Let me go."

"Tell me why." I demanded.

"Do you really suppose," She said sharply, "That I am going to tell you anything in this position?"

"Robert. Let go." I ordered curtly. He did so, looking at me unsurely. "Go." He shrugged, and left, leaving Carrie and I alone in the corridor, my wand still at her throat.

"What do you want?" I said, sounding resigned.

"Books." She whispered, backing away against the wall from my wand. "You're allowed in the Restricted Section-"

"You want… books?" I repeated, derisively. "You went to all this trouble - for books?"

"There are other things I want, too." She said quietly, shrinking away from me.

"Such as?"

"I want the books." She said again, carefully putting up a hand to lower my wand. I allowed her, but I kept alert. "And…" She looked thoughtful.

"You haven't got me at your mercy, you know." I said sullenly. "Just because I asked you what you wanted doesn't mean you can make up a list on the spot, and I will just comply-"

"Now, Tom, I don't want to have to make your life more difficult than it already is." She said softly, looking genuinely regretful, although I knew that to be an act.

"Are you threatening me?" I snapped, raising my wand again.

"I think possibly, it's the other way around." She told me, but she was grinning. "Come on now, Tom, it's far too risky to hex me…"

"I know." I said through gritted teeth, hating her.

"Put your wand away." She said, sounding amused.

"No."

"Now, Tom - " She grinned, lunging for my wand. I was too slow. She held it in her hand, waving it in front of my face. "Now, you listen to me." She poked me with my wand in the chest, teasingly. "All I want is for you to get me some books out the restricted section, and I promise - I _promise_ I will stop…"

"Harassing me?" I suggested, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Deal!" She held out her left hand, waving my wand in her right. I folded my arms. "Or… no deal?" her voice faltered.

"Fine, deal." I said resentfully, taking the proffered hand. She returned my wand to me, and I accepted it with little grace.

"You've got a lot to learn, Tom." She said playfully, smirking.

"Have I?" I snorted. "Like what?"

"Like how to treat girls." She raised her eyebrows at me, sticking her tongue out.

"I…" I began, but she had slipped away already.

Had I?


	4. Chapter 3 : Jealous Yet?

**Chapter 3 : Jealous Yet?**

_New chapter, finally! Sorry about the wait I've had a lot on and I couldn't get the scene at the end right. I think I've more or less got what I wanted now... well, enjoy :)_

Prefect Evening Patrol was something I enjoyed little and partook in as rarely as I dared. However, even though my unfortunate incidents had passed, I needed to be in as many of the teachers' good books as possible. The winter nights were frosty, and the castle's corridors were as icy as the Quidditch Pitch.

I strolled the corridors, reprimanded some first years for being out of their common room after hours, shooed Peeves from the Charms classrooms, and caught a third year in the Prefects' bathrooms. It was boring, dull work, and when it was time to return to the common room, I was greatly relieved. It was late, and I expected everyone else to be fast asleep in their warms beds. I hoped the fire had not died out, I hoped to regain some warmth before finally getting some sleep myself.

Once inside the Dungeons, I felt the warmth of the still blazing fire immediately. Grateful, I crossed to it, only to find Carrie in a very compromising position on the sofa with a sixth year.

"Bed. Lights out." I said wearily, pointing my wand at both of them. Carrie leapt up, looking furiously at me. The sixth year scuttled off, his ears burning. Carrie glared at me.

"You could've just gone to your dormitory." She accused me. "There was no need."

"It's after hours." I retorted. "I might feel like sitting by the fire, without watching you two cavorting-"

"You embarrassed him."

"Well, I _am_ sorry to spoil the fun." I added sarcastically. "I see what you did there, by the way."

"What?"

"Oh, Mark Johnson. That was who it was, wasn't it? Very rich family… VERY rich…" I finished, making my point clear. She flushed angrily, taking a seat on a separate sofa to me. I had guessed right.

We sat in silence for a bit, as I gratefully warmed myself by the fire.

"You know what your problem is?" Carrie said, uncurling herself.

"What?"

"You're just jealous." She gave me that look. That look… I can't describe it. It made me feel angry and stupid at the same time.

"Oh, definitely." I said, layering my words with as much sarcasm as they could take. "I'm sorry to break it to you, Miss Hunter, but I've been more jealous of Hagrid, the great oaf-"

"I think you are." Carrie stood up, and stood in front of me, her arms folded.

"Keep thinking." I ignored her as best as I could.

"Aren't you, Tom?" She was grinning at me.

"You're blocking the heat from the fire." I said bluntly. "Move." She stepped closer.

"No." She smirked.

"Do I have to hex you?"

"Do I have to prove to you you're jealous?" She stepped closer again. I lounged casually, giving her a disdainful look.

"The fire, you're still in the way-"

"Do I have to, Tom?" She gave me that look again, edging closer and closer.

"Caroline-" I stood up, pointing my wand at her.

She was right up close now, grinning, her arms snaking their way around my neck. My wand was pocketed so swiftly I barely had time to register. I felt furious for having not reacted quicker.

"Get off me please." I said uneasily.

"Not so sure now, are you?" Her face was inches from mine.

"Carrie-" I began, somehow frozen. I tried to reach for my wand. She pinned my hand down.

"You called me Carrie."

"I know I did, now get off me." I had not noticed the 'Carrie' slipping from my lips. She was always Caroline or Miss Hunter to me.

"No." She smiled at me. I resented any kind gestures she tossed my way.

"Suppose Mark was to come down…" I suggested venomously, hating her.

"He won't."

"Get off me." I demanded.

"You don't mean that." She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Believe me, I do. I have no desire for you to be in this-"

"I think you do." Carrie said, grinning again. I tried to push her off, but I didn't want to give her an opportunity to accuse me of anything. She resisted.

"Carrie-" Her face was even closer. I felt so foolish. How could I have ended up like this? Being held down by a mere female, not a strong one at that, without resistance? Why couldn't I bring myself to simply push her away?

Why was she moving in even closer?

"Go on Tom, admit you're jealous." She whispered, and I could feel her lips moving against my cheek as she spoke. I shivered.

"No." I muttered, confused beyond anything I'd known before. She was warm.

"You asked for it." She placed her hands on my cheeks, and her lips touched mine.

I tried to push her off, I tried to break away, but I found myself frozen in horror. I couldn't think straight, or move my head from the position she held it in. Her lips were warm and damp, and felt like… I don't know. I thought of Rob. He would laugh. Tom Riddle kissing Carrie Hunter on the sofa in the common room. How peculiar.

She let me go at last, tilting her head to one side to stick her tongue out at me.

"Still want me to get off you?" She said teasingly. I thought about it. I noted that my body, which had always fascinated me with its strange logic, was quite reluctant to push this warm girl away. As little as I wanted to get closer to this girl, a small part of me was very curious as to what would happen. Another part of me wanted bragging rights tomorrow. It was not something I had ever had before, not about this kind of… thing.

"I…" I began, confused. My mind and head battled furiously, as I watched helplessly, Carrie looking at me, blinking. I hated myself for thinking she was pretty. I hated myself for admitting a part of me wanted her to stay there. I hated her for making me think this.

"Well, Tom?" She raised her eyebrow. I thought of Rob again. What would he be doing if he was here? Cheering me on, probably. Oh, how crude. I'm disgusted to have ever called myself a teenage boy, but at least I was spared from having indulge in any of their mindless pursuits. Apart from… well, now. Carrie was still looking back at me, expecting an answer. Any reason I had for wanting her to stay had vanished. I removed her from me, and she gave me a querying glance.

I was saved from responding by footsteps on the stairs. She looked around warily, climbing off my sofa. It was only Alex, bleary eyed and heavy footed.

"I'm going to bed." Carrie said, feigning a yawn. "Good night Tom, good night Alex." She smiled at us, innocent as ever, and left.

"I…I just wanted a drink?" Alex rubbed his eyes. I was still somewhat speechless.

"I think I shall be off, too." I said briskly, trying to act normally. I'd done nothing wrong, either way. She started it, I thought, sounding childish even to myself.

"Tom… what the hell happened?" Alex said sleepily, smirking a little. He must have noticed my odd expression.

"Nothing." I said, leaving for my dormitory. He watched me climb the stairs, that ridiculous smirk still plastered on his face. I reached for my pocket, only to find a tissue waiting for me. With utter fury, I remembered Carrie had taken it from me. Alex would remain unscathed tonight, I thought bitterly, my pride wounded. Carrie would pay tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 4 : Rumours

**Chapter Four - Rumours **

_This chapter is a a bit of an inbetween chapter and no particularily exciting parts... but I quite like it. :P_

Breakfast was unpleasant. Although, in a way, it was also… vaguely… worryingly… satisfying?

Alex had spread rumours. I'm not sure what they were, but they involved me and Caroline. And the common room. Everyone was giving me little smirks and winks, now that Carrie was flavour of the week for all Slytherin males. Except me. But as the situation was, it seemed that it did include me. There was a lot of whispering around and near me, even my friends were giving me little sideways glances, and Rob had openly clapped me on the back, grinning. The majority of me was disgusted I was involved in a scandal like this, and I was somewhat ashamed. Carrie, of course, was aloof and completely unphased. She'd probably had worse rumours.

Mark Johnson was exceedingly annoyed, and mainly with me. I caught him having hurt and accusing words with Carrie in the common room later on. I was there to retrieve my wand, which Carrie still had in her possession. She gave me a seemingly genuine smile as I approached her, sending Mark, fuming, stomping off to his next lesson, shooting me daggers from his eyes.

"My wand?" I said coldly, holding out a hand. She pulled it out of her pocket, and waved it in front of her face. I did not respond to her taunting.

"Don't you want it?"

"I have a feeling," I said wearily, "You want something else of me, otherwise you would have already returned it."

"How astute." Carrie raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think that of me, Tom?"

"What do you want?" I said resignedly.

"Well, there are rumours going around about us, did you know?" Carrie told me, but it was not a question. I narrowed my eyes, watching, focusing on my wand.

"There are."

"We're 'involved', now, Tom." She continued, giving me a mischievous look. "And, well, everyone thinks so."

"So I am aware."

"So, why not?" She grinned at me, handing me back my wand.

"Why not what?" I said warily, fingering my wand.

"Tomorrow is Saturday." She blinked appealingly, hinting shamelessly.

"Uh." I said, finding that even within my vocabulary there were no words to describe the resigned, weary feeling I wanted to express. I could feel it; she was slowly manipulating me. I wouldn't let her.

"Meet you at 12. Take me somewhere nice." She whispered in my ear, smiling. She reached up to kiss me on the cheek, and whirled off, leaving behind my reddening face and a chorus of "ooooooooh"s from my smirking friends. I whirled to face them, on the one hand, completely ashamed that I was now apparently "seeing" the house whore, on the other… this strange, small feeling of pride welled up inside me. It worried me. Was I proud that I was now one of them? Or was I proud that she had picked me?

I agonised over this during Potions. Rob slapped his books down on the table next to me.

"Can I work with you?" He asked, but it was more of a customary politeness than an actual request. I grunted, and he grinned at me. "Can I please ask-" he said, in an amused tone "-exactly what's going on between Carrie and you. One minute she's harassing you, the next-"

"She's still harassing me." I said sullenly. "Just in a different way."

"Right, I see." said Rob, although he obviously didn't. "But are you two, you know…?"

"No, I don't know, Rob, I can't read minds." I snapped, although that was a lie. I can read minds.

"Are you seeing each other?" Rob said, giving me a wary look. He was right to be wary.

"Seeing her?" I began sarcastically. "Oh, I see her all the time. Just like I see you. In fact, I can see her right now. There she is, making a potion, probably copying everything I've done, just to outdo me. And later, she's going to harass me. She's going to force me into doing something else I don't want to do, and then tomorrow, she's going to force me into taking her "somewhere nice." I wish she would leave me alone." _And I can't seem to pluck up the courage just to hex her_, I add silently.

Rob just laughed.

"Firstly, Tom," he said "You knew what I meant, and it wasn't that. Secondly, you need to be less uptight about the whole thing. She's… well, she's a very popular young lady at the moment."

"Not with me." I mutter.

"Yeah, whatever you say." Rob smirked at me. "I know you, and I know that you don't take stuff from people. What I want to know, is why you haven't just told her to leave you alone, or more like you, just _made_ her to leave you alone?"

"She's not as weak as she looks." I argue, pathetically.

"And thirdly-" continued Rob, ignoring me "I never thought I'd see the day." He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

"What day?" I demand.

"The day Tom Riddle got all uptight over a girl." Rob said mischievously, knowing he could dare say this and go unpunished. The privilege of being my friend.

"That," I say emphatically "is the worst theory you've ever come up with."

"Yeah." Rob says, but he is ignoring me and my retort, preferring his own ridiculous theory. He was right in a way, Carrie _was_ making me uptight, but not in the way that he was implying.

"Shut up, Rob." I said sulkily, hitting the sides of my cauldron venomously as I stirred it, wishing it was Carrie's face. He only grinned, thinking he was right. He was not.

True to form, Carrie cornered me during lunch time, when I was working alone in the common room. She crept up from behind me, covering my eyes with her cool hands.

"Guess who." She said softly, causing me to groan with distaste.

"Have you come for your books?" I disengage her hands from my head, turning around to face her.

"No, I don't have room in my bag at the moment." She said airily, smiling at me as if she had never caused me any harm or discomfort. I felt quite differently.

"Then why are you here?" I asked bluntly, feeling my stomach slide uneasily as she reached for my hands with her own.

"I wanted to talk." She smiled up at me again. I wondered if I ought to return it. I supposed not. I saved smiles for special occasions.

"Talk?" I allowed her to guide me to a seat.

"I have a bit of a favour I want to ask you." She said, slowly, biting her lip. _Drop the act already_, I wanted to yell at her. _You're just using me, using my influence as Tom Riddle, the prefect and honours student_.

"Yes?" I said shortly.

"Mark Johnson." She said, almost regretfully. "He is irking me." I laughed out loud.

"Why, only last night you seemed on quite good terms with him."

"Perhaps." She said, unashamed. "He is quite cross."

"Understandably." I narrowed my eyes at her.

"We had no agreement." She shrugs, as if it is a matter of little importance. As it is. However, I doubt Mark was seeing it this way.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to do something. Something…. public." She grins at me. I shake my head.

"I don't know what you mean, but I refuse beforehand." I said sharply. "I am not your scapegoat, Carrie."

"You called me Carrie, again." She whispered, bending closer to me.

"Your point?" I said icily.

"My point is, Tom," She said, as innocently as she could muster "That I think I could easily persuade you to do this one, tiny thing for me. It shouldn't be arduous, anyway." she pouted. "Seeing as I'm your girlfr-"

"No." I said firmly. "I'm not sure what you think we have agreed, but I am definitely not-"

"I'm offering you something really important here, Tom." She hissed, suddenly serious. "I know you're not into relationships, and I'm not asking you to be. And yes, I quite like you. But the main thing about this is how much we can gain from it. Think about it. You're Tom Riddle, you're perfect, you're a model student, everyone respects or fears you, and I-"

"You're Caroline." I finish for her, beginning to see her point. "Caroline, the girl who blossomed from a shy, meek student, to the popularity queen I see before me." Note my sarcasm. "Now, wouldn't it be fitting-"

"For Tom and Carrie, the pets of the year, to be together?" Carrie continued, grinning at me now. "There's so much to gain, for you as well as me. Just think about it."

I did. She watched me closely.

"I'll see how it goes." I said slowly, and she grinned at me.

"Thanks." she stuck her tongue out at me, laughing, drawing me into a hug. I reluctantly hugged her back. She turned her head to whisper in my ear. "The benefit is… I really do quite like you, Tom Riddle." I gave her a scrutinising look. "Will I do?" She said mockingly "Am I good enough?" I thought about it.

"Well… you're sneaky enough." I told her. It was a compliment.


	6. Chapter 5 : Jump?

**Chapter 5 - Jump?**

**_Here is another chapter, folks, it's been written a while but my computer wouldn't let me upload it... but here it is. I'm quite pleased with some of the dialogue, though. Enjoy (if you dare.)_**

I woke up early on Saturday morning, my stomach behaving as if it was indeed trying to eat itself. I could not believe I had agreed to spend a whole day with Carrie, Carrie - the one person so far in my life who had been able to successfully manipulate me to her own ends. I did not trust myself with her, not at all. I supposed it was part of being at that awkward age, I thought bitterly, where the body and mind are so often in conflict, if you believe in that psychobabble. Bad as it is though, at least I _have_ some conflict. Unlike Rob, Alex, and all of those idiots, who follow their bodies' whims like street signs. I, at least, recognise that my body is often unruly.

When I still attended Muggle school, I learned about Plato, the ancient Greek philosopher. He had an interesting theory about the parts of the soul. He believed it was in three parts - reason, passion, and appetite. It was up to the reason to control the other unruly two. It was a clever idea, although untrue. Plato had the right idea, but he was wrong about one thing. He did not believe the soul could be taken to pieces. A non-composite object.

My soul was in pieces, and they were not the pieces that Plato talked about.

But still, I decided to heed his advice from beyond the grave today. I would need to keep my reason about me with Carrie.

However, she proved me quite wrong. I met her in the entrance hall, to find her dressed up in a full length, thick coat, complete with woolly mittens, scarf and hat, innocently watching the snow outside with childish anticipation. I stood watching her for a few moments, analysing her movements. For once, she was truly pulling off the look that I grudgingly suppose some would describe as "cute." She turned around with a start to find me watching her curiously, giving me a quizzical look. For a brief moment I could see the old Carrie, as she instinctively shrunk back into herself. It was short-lived, however.

"What are you staring at?" She asked teasingly, pouting a little.

"Quite obviously, you." I said, amused. "You're all wrapped up."

"It's cold outside."

"You seem to have anticipated where I might take you."

"I expect nothing less of you, Tom." She grinned at me, and I offered her my arm, the gentleman that I am.

"I'm taking you somewhere nice, remember?" I tell her, but I'm not so sure I am.

I lead her out the grounds, and take my wand out of my pocket.

"Surely you haven't passed your test yet, Tom?"

"No." I say truthfully, "But neither have you."

"I haven't been apparating." She says quickly, defensively. I laugh.

"I wouldn't worry, Carrie, I'm not altogether bothered by whatever it is you've been doing." Neither did I want to know, frankly. I grasped her arm, flicked my wand, and after one agonising, stretching, pulling-pushing moment - we are on solid ground again. Carrie regained her footing speedily enough for me to know she was not, indeed, a beginner.

"You've apparated before."

"No?" She blinked up at me, and I felt her mitten clad hand slide into mine.

"You'll begin to realise, soon," I told her, amused "That tricks like that don't work on me." She just smiled at me, still keeping her grip on my fingers. I let it be. At least there was no one around to see.

"Where are you taking me, Tom?" She said absently, glancing at our surroundings. "Is this… the seaside?"

"A village by the sea." I corrected her.

"What's so special about here?"

"I like it."

I took her along through the rows of houses and quaint little shops, down the snow covered road, to the edge of a sheer cliff, the top that we stood on was unfenced and icy.

"Careful." I warned Carrie, pulling her by her arms. She exaggerated my motion deliberately in order to fall right into my arms. I gave her an exasperated look.

"Oh, _Tom_." She grinned "So soon?"

"Don't go too near the edge." I said redundantly, softly but firmly detaching myself from her.

"How far down is it?" She asked, stepping forward with a tight grip on my wrist.

"Very." Holding her by her shoulders, I let her step right to the edge and lean over. "Imagine," I whispered in her ear, feeling her shudder with vertigo. "Imagine climbing down there."

"I don't want to." She said, and the slight touch of horror in her voice made me smile. I enjoyed it when I was the one in control.

"I could push you over, right now." I said quietly, tightening my grip on her shoulders. She gave me a brief, wary look.

"You won't." She said, but I heard a hint of confusion in her voice.

"No, you're right." I grinned at her, enjoying her bewilderment.

"So you do like me." She prodded me in the chest, smiling slightly.

"Ahh, now, Carrie." I said softly, watching her shiver in the cold, "You've got to start thinking critically. Use your brain."

"Umm…"

"I won't kill you, it's too risky. Now why could that be?"

"I don't know. Perhaps someone might hear?"

"Excellent." I said "Everyone knows you are with me, and if you did not come back they would blame me. Also, your body would miss the sea by about a metre, leaving precious evidence for all to see."

"There's also a chance I might not die, and you merely injure me, in which case I'd live to tell the tale."

"Exactly." I said, watching her.

"But Tom…" She began slowly, "Supposing none of that were an issue…"

"Yes?"

"Would you have pushed me?"

"Let me see." I said, looking past her to the misty horizon. "Thanks to you, my potions teacher thinks I am a cheat, I've been accused of doing forbidden magic, I've been bullied into doing several things I don't really want to do, including being here, I-"

"So you would?" She said, looking hurt.

"- there are several quite explicit rumours going around the school, my reputation has been ruined… but yet, no." I looked at her, a smile playing on my lips. "I wouldn't."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure." I look at her critically. "You have a use in you yet, I suppose."

"Oh, how romantic." She said sarcastically, looking disappointed.

"I'm not here to be romantic." I told her, feeling her edge her way back from the cliff.

"What are we here for, then?" Carrie said, moving closer to me, putting her hands in my coat pockets. I almost appreciated her warmth.

"I wanted to see it." She rolled her eyes a little at this, pulling my arm around her. Resigned to being bullied by her, I allowed it to stay there.

"It's very steep." She said eventually, wriggling up against me. "I don't think anyone could climb that."

"I climbed it."

"It's really rocky - you what?" She gave me a curious little glance.

"I climbed it." I repeated. I'll give her this much - she didn't scoff at me, or humour me, she just looked mildly surprised. She didn't ask me why I'd been here before, or how I'd managed it. She just turned to me with one word.

"Why?"

"I had to see if I could do it." I said, giving her a sideways look, and she picked up on the joke at once, laughing.

"Really, Tom… why?"

"That was my reason. I had to see if it was possible. I didn't know I was a wizard."

"You didn't know?" Carrie whistled in admiration. "And you _still_ tried to climb it. Jesus, Tom…" I shrugged. I supposed that having had two other children with me at the time has made me feel less scared, knowing that they were always going to be at least ten times more terrified than I. Much like right now. I could feel Carrie backing away from the edge. I wasn't afraid. I'd done it before, I could conquer it again.

We stood for quite a while, watching the waves lap against the jutting rocks.

"I could climb down there." She mumbled eventually, numb with cold.

"No, you couldn't."

"I could." She pushed me away, playfully, a little too close to the edge for comfort.

"You're worried when you're merely looking over the top," I commented wryly, "I sincerely doubt your nerves would hold all the way down."

"They would. I'll prove it to you." She said defiantly, lowering her shivering limbs.

"Feel free." I folded my arms, watching her calmly. She sat with her legs dangling over the edge, and I watched her swallow.

"Tom…" she began quietly. "Is this what people would see…"

"See when?" I prompted her.

"Before they jump."

"Presumably." I shrugged. "If you were to jump off a cliff, it is likely it would look something like this…"

"Look, Tom." She tugged at my sleeve, pulling me to the edge. I saw the outlines of sharp rocks jutting up, waiting, almost - patiently, eerily, to catch a limp, falling figure. "Imagine it… it's like looking at your own death…"

"I think that's the idea…" I pulled at her hand. "It's getting dark."

"Do you plan it?" Carrie continued, letting me pull her up, but still staring at the foam spitting at the shore. "Do people come to places like this meaning to jump, or are they like us… just here to look, and they decide to-"

"I don't know," I said calmly, but losing my patience. "I've never committed suicide, as you might have guessed." She didn't answer, just made a small sound. She was shivering in earnest now.

"I don't want to die, Tom." She muttered, backing away from the cliff. "Ever."

"Me neither."

"But we have to."

"I won't."

"You will, Tom. Everyone does. But I think….I think…" Carrie gave the cliff a disgusted look. "I'd rather choose when and how."

"Are you saying you'd jump?" I said sharply, gripping her arm with force.

"No, I'm just saying… I don't want to die like everyone else."

"I'm not going to die."

"Yes, you will." Carrie rolled her eyes.

"I won't." I said quietly, in a tone of voice that makes her glance up at me curiously.

"No?"

"No." I say it with such authoritative resolution Carrie doesn't question it this time. I start to walk away from the cliff, back up to the village. Carrie watches me go with a strange expression on her face, before following me slowly.

I know what she means. I don't want to die an old, weak man in my bed, like everyone else. I don't want to have a funeral where they talk about me as being "but a mortal man in the end." This is why… I have to push magic as far as it can go. I don't believe anyone pushes it as far as it can possibly bend. I intend to stretch it until either it breaks, or I do. But I don't believe it will be me.

So yes, I would jump. And in a way, that's what I'm doing.

Jumping.


	7. Chapter 6 : That Sickening Charm

"Why did you allow this, Tom?" Dumbledore gently touched the shoulder of his ex-pupil who was staring coolly out the window. Voldemort shook the hand off sharply, back to the present for now. He gave Dumbledore a look of distaste, having forgotten their differences whilst absorbed in his story.

"I've always believed in fate." Voldemort's long fingered fists were clenched by his sides. "She was a fascinating personality. Fate, I felt had something in store for us. She had a use, not that I admit to foreseeing it at that point… I merely had my suspicions. Also, you forget, I was young. She was the talk of the house. She was a trophy. I enjoy… I enjoy having trophies." Voldemort sounded less sure than was usual. Dumbledore glanced at him with that piercing gaze he knew and detested only too well.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore spoke again, quietly evaluative, understanding the unspoken. "Tell me Tom… what was the real reason?"

Voldemort span around, his eyes flashing. "Why ask what you already know?" He hissed. "Yes, I am loathe to admit it, but you know as well as I do, she had me under her spell. I could no more forget her than forget my own name. That sickening charm of femininity I've come to detest with a passion… this was the first and last time it gripped me."

"Why the past tense, Tom?"

"It is over now."

"But," Dumbledore said softly, "is it really?"

Voldemort considered this for a short moment. The answer was hissed, layered with determination to finish what he had begun.

"Never."

**My lovely, darling readers…if I have any. I apologise so deeply for my lack in updates, I've been disgustingly busy and I had a complete mental block with these chapters I'm putting up now. But they're here - short, but here! So try and forgive me ;)**


	8. Chapter 7 : Moment of Fragility

-**Chapter 7**

**A new chapter Full of sap and stuff (and some RUDE WORDS! -gasp-) Enjoy :)**

There are only several times in my life that I have been truly scared. Not nervous, not apprehensive - scared in the deep, gut-wrenching torment sense of the word. Oh, I dislike thinking about it, even though I know much of it was down to foolishness of my part. Weaknesses. I have counted, and I can recall three - possibly four - of these times. Two of them - maybe three - were because of Carrie. Yes, I, scared. Truly and utterly terrified. I can barely admit this to anyone except myself, it's far too revealing, not to mention… shaming. I can't even truly explain it. Ironically, the only person I would expect to understand would be Carrie herself…

Carrie and I developed a habit of staying up in the common room until every last person had gone to bed, bullying as necessary if they lingered. Ignoring the suggestive comments, we used the time wisely. Carrie and I were quite a team. The beneficial relationship I had been promised was finally emerging, with results. Revenged was exacted upon enemies. Yes, childish plots they were, but the smoothness with which we executed them excited me. Carrie was not to know of my future plans, but I felt she would prove invaluable. I think she wanted something else from me, however. Something that would definitely not be offered. Something I wasn't aware I had.

We put on a ridiculous show for everyone else, holding hands - the whole thing. I detested it, mostly. I did enjoy being the object of envy for many Slytherins, and this new way to flummox them was especially enjoyable. Carrie loved it; all of it. I think, as much as she enjoyed scheming, she also wanted a relationship with real foundations. I suppose she thought she could worm one out of me. Charm the untameable. I admit it, she had me. I was officially charmed. I hated it, I really did.

She was pretty. Honestly and truthfully pretty. And I hated myself for knowing it. My untrained eyes didn't know what exactly "prettiness" was when manifested in human females, but it was Carrie all over. I suppose this is part of being a teenage male, but sometimes she only had to look at me, and I would plunge into deep, deep confusion. With Rob and the others, this confusion showed itself in desires and vulgarities. With me, it was simply that: confusion. Caroline saw this, and it vaguely annoyed her. Any other boy by now would've grabbed her and molested her in some way, and all I did was refuse to look at her and walk away whenever this happened. Which was often.

Not only was she pretty, she was the only person to ever scratch beyond my surface. Long painful interrogations had me almost spilling all my deepest, darkest desires. I still had enough wits left about me to retain the important details, but there were time when it came really close. She would nestle right up close to me in the crook of my arm and just… listen. She would throw me with her unfamiliar smell of.. of.. _girl_… and her uncanny knack to predict my next few words. I told her things that seemed to leap out of my mouth before my mind could control their exit. It was verbal vomit. I didn't feel right… someone knowing so much about me. I had to reassure myself every day that I was stronger than her. I had to believe I could eliminate her if I needed to, as sadistic as that sounds.

She started trying to tame me. She cornered me in the common room one night, when everyone else had left. Literally, cornered. I was standing by the fire, warming myself, and up she walked, pushing me back until I was against the wall.

"Why don't you kiss me?" She demanded, hands on hips.

"Why do you want me to?" I quipped, narrowing my eyes.

"Because, Tom Riddle," Carrie said, poking me in the arm with each word she said "because - because…"

"You can't even find a reason." I said scornfully, folding my arms. "So don't try and force this adolescent bullshit upon me, I really don't have the time-"

"_Adolescent bullshit_?" Her eyes were suddenly wide, and she looked genuinely hurt. "Bloody… adolescent bullshit? Oh, Tom."

"What?"

"Is that it?"

"Is what it?" I snapped.

"Is that all I am? Adolescent bullshit?"

"I'll tell you what you are." I said forcefully. "You're a manipulative, sneaky, pushy girl who gets her own way through pure good looks."

"And you're a manipulative, sly and overpowering boy who gets his own way through pure charm." Carrie glared at me. "We have our faults. You know mine, I know yours. What makes me think there's something else other than this _adolescent bullshit_ is that fact that this manipulative, sly and overpowering boy hasn't hexed me off the face of this planet yet. And don't say you've got a use for me, you don't need any help at all. I've watched you. I'm useless to you."

No, Carrie, you were not. Mistake number one.

"Well, no one else has ever managed to do this to me." I say weakly, once more flummoxed by this strange girl who had flounced into my life and was refusing to leave.

"How?" She demanded. "I don't even think you like me, sometimes." Second mistake, Carrie, and by far the worst.

"You - you confuse me! I like you, I suppose. In a confusing way. I don't know _what_ I want with you… I just don't not want you here."

There was brief silence while Carrie tried to digest the most nonsensical sentence to ever come from Tom Marvolo Riddle's mouth. The shame.

"Well, Tom, you confuse the hell out of me as well." She said finally, smiling weakly. "Look, just kiss me, it's so much less complicated." She gave me a cheeky grin.

"No." I muttered, but she was wrapping herself up in me, and I found myself, once more, numb.

"Shut up. Put your arms around me." She ordered. I did as she said, groaning.

"I don't kiss." I mumbled, reduced to this pathetic version of myself she managed to coax out of my personality.

"Yes, you do." Carrie grinned, wriggling against me. "Now, push me against the wall."

"Look, if you want to be raped, you'd best have a word with Mark."

"Hush. Just do it."

"I'm not pushing anyone up against any walls."

"Stop being such a gentleman. Push me up against it."

With a world weary sigh, I made vague movements towards said wall.

"Good. Now, tell me something nice." Carrie smiled innocently up at me, melting that stupid inner male of mine again. "Then kiss me."

Something nice? I struggled with my numb brain, trying to think of something I could dredge up from the grey matter that I used to think with.

"You… you smell nice?" In the loosest sense of the word, of course. She smelt of _girl_ - unfamiliar and sweet and altogether unnerving.

Carrie burst out laughing, pushing me away. "Tom, you're useless."

"I told you I don't kiss."

"Bullshit." She said, stressing both syllables, grinning. "You just don't want to."

"Which, if I'm not mistaken, still amounts to _not_ doing… that." She really did remove all eloquency from my speech.

"Why are you so … so… wary of me?" She pushed me back onto the sofa, where I landed heavily, scowling. "Haven't you… been with girls?" At least she had the decency to blush as she asked that.

"I think you know the answer to that." I narrowed my eyes. Carrie shrugged, curling up next to me in front of the fire. We sat in silence for a bit, my side burning where she was in contact with me. How pathetic.

"But why, Tom?" She sat up, climbing onto me. I winced.

"Ow."

"Oh, shut up. This is where I want to sit."

"And this is where my blood wants to circulate."

"Tough." She grinned at me, wriggling until she was comfortable. "The thing is, Tom, I don't understand why girls haven't… you know."

"I don't exactly give off a welcoming aura."

"I've noticed," She said dryly. "and sit still, you're being bony."

"I tend to have bones, sorry."

"Enough with the sarcasm! My point is," she tilted her head to one side to smile at me, "You're… Tom Riddle." Yes, yes, the perfect Tom Riddle. Suave, charming, handsome…

"My priorities lie elsewhere." I was reddening, I could tell. I wished she would just get off me.

"So I can see." She sighed. "And this _always_ happens, we always end up just talking and talking and talking and talking and- "

"As I said before, if you're looking for rape, you should find your good friend Mark." I said tersely. She glared at me.

"I just want you to show some affection for me. I know it's in there somewhere."

"You flatter yourself." I snapped.

"Maybe." She retorted, but sadly. A small part of me felt a little harsh.

"That's the problem, isn't it?"

"What is?" She looked at me, still hurt.

"I suppose," I began grudgingly "I just like you a lot more than I know why."

"And I like you a lot more than you deserve." Carrie interjected, prodding me in the chest.

"Definitely."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not a nice person, you know that, Carrie." The moment I had said that I could feel it coursing through me. It's always been true. Always. Clever, yes, charming, yes, ambitious, yes - but never have I been a nice person. Suddenly, the full realisation of this dawned upon me. I've done things - terrible things - and I knew they were not good, yet I still did them. For magic. For me. I was, as peculiar as this sounds, quite comfortable with the idea of myself as a bad person. Up until this point.

I looked at her, and I saw through the scheming, sneaky, sly girl she had become, and all I could see was prevailing goodness. Suddenly, I felt disgusted with myself. I gently pushed her off me, not meeting her eyes. Before I left, I managed to extract from myself a few heart-felt words, for once.

"If you knew better, you'd stay away from me." And with that, I left.

She kept away from me the next day or so, whether in reaction to my warning, confusion or anger - I don't know which. I kept my head down and tried not to think about her too much. I stopped using her name, even. I even skipped potions to avoid having to work with her. I was acting my age, I suppose. A sulky teenager I had become…

Sluggy found me, of course, after the second time, hiding in the library.

"I think you'd better come with me, Riddle." He boomed, and I followed him despondently to his office. He never called me Riddle.

"Tom, m'lad," he said seriously, once we were sat down on his velvet armchairs, "Explain yourself."

"I've been ill, sir." I lied. "Terrible headaches. So sorry I missed your lessons; I will willingly catch up with any work I've-"

Slughorn sighed. "I don't understand it. You're a good boy, Tom. Why are you missing my lessons? And don't lie about your head, we both can see you're perfectly fine."

"I'm not." I muttered darkly, in response to his comment.

"Not what? Fine?"

"A good boy."

"Having an identity crisis, are we?" Slughorn chuckled a little, making me feel smaller than ever. I shrunk into the seat, wanting so desperately to disappear.

"Tom, you look awful." Slughorn said, in concern, peering at my face. "Things getting you down?"

I made a non-committal noise. "I suppose so, sir." This and that. I groaned inwardly.

"I've got just the ticket to cheer you up." Slughorn said, beaming. Beckoning me over to his desk, he pulled out a copy of the _Prophet_. "You see this?" He opened it at a page of print, pointing to one of those tiny, filler articles that no one reads.

_Yesterday, young squib mother Julia Price, 23, amazed the wizarding world with top class hovering spell. Her son Arthur, 3, was walking across the bridge near her hometown when he slipped and began to plunge to his death. Julia, proven to be entirely non-magical several times by experts, performed a highly complex hovering charm in a split second, retrieving her screaming son in the nick of time. Julia had received no magical education at all, and has never before or since managed to successfully cast a spell. When questioned about the incident, she merely replied: "I guess it's just because I love Arthur so much, and I couldn't bear to see him hurt."_

"Amazing, isn't it?" Slughorn cut through his thoughts. "The things love can do…"

"Quite." I said, unimpressed.

"Tom, Tom," Slughorn clapped me jovially on the back. "I think you underestimate love as a magical force."

"Sir, that's because it isn't."

"Wrong, Tom, for once." Slughorn grinned. "Take a potion, for instance. What is required, say to create a potion?"

"Uhh… ingredients, a cauldron, a fire…" I said uncertainly, Slughorn nodding me on. "Something to stir it with… a magical mind… And…. And… uh…"

"You're missing the key ingredient."

"I…" What was he getting at?

"Love, Tom." Slughorn winked at me. "Don't tell me you can make a potion without love, dedication and care."

"I suppose not." I said reluctantly. "It requires a certain amount of commitment-"

"Love." Slughorn leaned closer. "Don't you remember when I told you that love potions are the most dangerous of all?"

"I do, sir, and I remember thinking it was ridiculous-"

"Tom, love destroys men, good men like you and I." Slughorn sounded serious. "Don't underestimate it."

"I… I won't, sir." I replied, decidedly confused now. Why was he telling me this? What exactly was I going to learn from an old man's weaknesses?

"Run along now." He smiled, and I began to open the door. "Oh, and Tom-"

"Yes?"

"Make up with her. Don't let this stop you from doing whatever you want."

"Oh, but sir, it's not that - I mean, I don't-" I stuttered, trying to correct his assumptions.

"Be gone with you!" he boomed suddenly, inflating slightly. I left hurriedly, confused. Was he trying to imply that I lo-

No, I wouldn't say it. It was ridiculous, even to me.

I don't believe I have mentioned this before, but being Tom Riddle had some gaping disadvantages. For one, I had many enemies. Secondly, I had many Slytherin enemies. It's not a good combination.

I had a run in with two of these enemies on my trip back from Slughorn's office. I can't remember their real names, as Rob and I had nicknamed them Stumpy and Stringy. They were quite a pair, as the names suggest, one as lean as a pole, the other looked as if he had been sat on by a giant, as Rob used to remark. It was remarkably accurate by way of description.

By all accounts, they detested me. Why? I'm not sure. They were never singled out for anything by myself, nor had I done anything that could possibly have annoyed them. This irrational hatred had only increased since Carrie and I had… well… anyway, Stringy fancied himself as a bit of a ladies' man, woefully inaccurate as that was, and I suppose he had incorrectly assumed that he stood a chance with Carrie.

"Teacher's pet, Riddle, eh?" Stumpy sneered, and I rolled my eyes somewhat obviously in his direction.

"Please, spare me the childish threats."

"You always were a brown-nosing half-blood who was too clever for his own good." Stringy added, knowing exactly which buttons to press. "Running off to your whore of a girlfriend?"

"I'll bet." Stumpy sniggered. "Does she treat you good, Riddle?" Both of them grinned at each other.

"I bet she does." Stringy said, winking at me.

I drew my wand, shaking slightly with anger. "Take that back, or regret it."

"Which part?" Stringy asked, innocently,

"All of it." I raised my wand now, impatient with his banter, wishing only to cause him extreme pain.

"Woah there, half-blood." I heard Stumpy's voice from behind me, and suddenly I was on the floor, fumbling desperately for my wand. I was furious. Where magic was concerned, they would never have stood a chance, but with brute force… I was somewhat… disadvantaged.

"Give me my wand!" I snapped, my one last chance to retain some dignity… and… or… consciousness. I swore loudly then, having lost sight of the pair of them, and felt my head slam against the floor with worrying force. Where once I would've fought to remain awake, I let myself slide into the blackness with little resistance. My sight was the first to go, and as my hearing started to muffle and merge into nothingness, I fancied almost I heard Carrie's voice. Too tired to fight any longer, I fell hopelessly into unconsciousness.

I half woke up to the sound of the school nurse bustling around my bedside. Bedside? Oh, the hospital wing. How embarrassing. I kept my eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness. Whose voice was that I could hear? Carrie's?

"I found them in the charms corridor. They were hitting him and-"

"You felt it was necessary to curse them?"

"I - I… couldn't have stopped them otherwise, they were-"

"Never mind excuses. Thank you for bringing him to me, he's going to need some peace and quiet, so I'd be grateful if you could leave…"

"Oh, please, let me stay, I want to check-"

"Five minutes." I heard the warning reply. "And five minutes only."

I sensed Carrie move towards my bed, sitting silently somewhere near my head. I felt someone's hand feel my forehead - the nurse's, I suppose, as it was too rough to be Carrie's - and then I heard the creak and click of the door as it swung shut, leaving Carrie and I alone in the silent hospital wing. I felt another hand on my head - this one smooth and cold. I started slightly.

"Tom?"

I continued to feign sleep. She sighed, and I felt her smooth down my covers, tucking me in from the waist down. I was vaguely aware of being in my pyjamas, but unsure how I had ended up in them, I hoped sincerely Carrie had had nothing to do with it. She brushed my hair out of my face next, which was sticking to my forehead in slimy clumps. My head ached, come to think of it, and her cool hands felt like water in a desert. Her hand found mine, and despite myself, I felt my fingers curl slightly into hers. She didn't seem to notice however, continuing to stroke my forehead.

"Tom," she whispered in my ear, her hand still holding mine. "I've been thinking about what you said… and …"

I opened one eye slightly.

"I knew you were awake!" She smiled. "But, Tom," she squeezed my hand.

"Yes?" I said quietly.

She leant in as close as she could get. "I'm not a nice person, either." She whispered.

Here it is; my moment of weakness. The terror, the confusion, the sudden rush of feelings - they remain with me, even now. That fearful flood of _empathy_, of all things. This is it, Tom Riddle's defining moment of fragility. What was I to do? What was I to say? I didn't know, I just lay there, one eye closed.

So I kissed her.


End file.
